Serg wasn’t as quick up the stairs, so Dax had to wait because he didn’t know which of the craphole apartments belonged to Winlow. Last he’d heard Winlow had made it big, he’d taken his poker addiction to professional levels. But the broken doors and graffiti covered internal walls didn’t suggest he was still languishing in the dough. Either the girlfriend had spent it, or Winlow had developed another vice that sapped his winnings. At these kinds of extremes, Dax would guess drugs were that vice, which might explain why Winlow had wigged out and killed his girlfriend.

Serg pointed at a door, and Dax didn’t bother to knock and ask politely for Winlow. He marched forth and lifted a foot to kick the door in with one swift blow. Modern open-plan layouts made it easy to make an entrance. One window was boarded up but the others were uncovered so there was plenty of light for Dax to pick out Winlow’s stocky figure seated on the brown leather couch next to a skinny brunette who was wearing too much makeup for this time of day.

She squealed and leapt to her feet, but Dax held out a hand. ‘You just sit down, sweetheart, no one’s gonna touch you.’ He managed enough of a smile to bend the brunette’s knees and she fell back down to the couch. When she was resting easy, Dax switched on his glare and fixed it on Winlow. ‘You’re the one who we want squealing.’

With two paces, Dax grabbed a handful of Winlow’s shirt, right under his throat. Twisting his wrist and flexing his bicep, he lifted Winlow out of the seat and turned to throw him against the wall behind a perpendicular armchair.

The brunette squeaked and in his periphery Dax saw her rise from the couch. ‘Keep an eye on her,’ Dax said to Serg, he didn’t want some crazy woman trying to beat on him while he was having a conversation.

‘You got it,’ Serg said.

Winlow squawked when Dax bent down to lift him up off the floor with two hands. ‘I think you know why we’re here,’ he said to Winlow.

‘I… No… I…’

This kind of response was normal. It took people a minute or two to reorient themselves from calmly watching the television to having their head kicked in. If the bubbles of heat spinning and erupting beneath his skin were anything to go by, Dax was in need of a little action this morning, so he would take his time.

‘I’ve been told different,’ Dax said.

Winlow was in his thirties. His thinning hair and weathered face were a manifestation of the wrong choices he’d made and the struggles he’d had throughout his life, but they weren’t Dax’s concern. Things were going to get much worse for Winlow in a hurry if he thought about stonewalling.

Dax let go of his prey, which made him stagger. Balling his fist, Dax smacked the guy across the chops and sent him to the floor again. Winlow gagged and coughed, spraying blood over the back of his chair. But Dax crouched, propping his elbows on his knees, ignoring the crimson droplets.

‘You got a thing for brunettes?’ Dax asked.

‘Don’t fucking touch her!’ Winlow exclaimed, spitting out more blood.

‘Protective sonofabitch, are you? I can identify with that. See, I’ve got a pretty brunette of my own and word is that she’s not in a position of security and that concerns me… I’m sure that you can understand.’

As Winlow flopped back against the wall under the boarded up window, he wiped the back of his hand over his chin to mop up the trail of blood that had slunk out of his lips. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, you don’t, huh?’ Dax asked, cracking his knuckles. ‘I heard you did. I heard you knew exactly who was trying to harm my girl… I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy, I think it’s up to a man to protect his woman, but I guess that’s a concept that’s lost on you. I’m gonna be fair on you though, Winlow, and I’m gonna give you a choice, how does that sound?’ Winlow nodded and clutched at his jaw. ‘Either, I can believe that you do know more than you’re telling me now and keep beating you until you tell me what I want to know—‘

‘Don’t hurt him!’ the brunette wept, but Dax didn’t bother to rise and look over the chair to see her, he just stayed right here, crouched by Winlow’s sagging form.

‘Or I can believe that you’re telling me the truth and that you don’t know anything.’

‘I don’t!’ Winlow mumbled, the swelling in his mouth slurred his words.

‘Ok,’ Dax nodded and rose to his feet, pulling the cell phone from his pocket. ‘What’s the address here, Serg?’

‘What are you doing?’ Winlow asked.

‘You’re a wanted man, Winlow. What kind of citizen of this fair city would I be if I didn’t let the law know I’d found a fugitive? You’re FTA, aren’t you? That’s serious shit not to show up to court when you’re wanted for murder.’

‘No,’ Winlow said, using the chair and the wall to steady himself, he clambered up to his feet. ‘Don’t call the police, I… I’ll tell you, ok? I… I don’t know much of anything.’

‘Why don’t you start with what you want to tell me and then we’ll move onto the details,’ Dax said, sticking his phone back into his pocket.

‘Yeah, ok, I heard I… we had a card game, I was at a card game and… I heard it from a… I heard five hundred grand for her head, that’s all I know.’

‘All you know?’ Dax asked. Sweeping his forearm around, he thrust Winlow against the wall. ‘Who was at this card game?’

‘Just three of us, me and Benny and… The Greyhound, that was it.’

‘That was it,’ Dax said, glancing back at Serg who was still in front of the brunette, Serg shrugged indicating he was happy enough with that information, but Dax wasn’t satisfied. ‘Who spoke? I want you to tell me exactly what was said.’ Dax had to know how they identified Ivy to know what people were looking for when they sought her out.

‘It was… it was The Greyhound, he was… he said he’d heard talk that was all, he didn’t say who told him.’

‘What did he say?’ Dax demanded, pulling the guy forward to slam him to the wall.

‘Just… just that there was a bounty out, told us how much, told us… he said, she… brunette, big tits, married to the Ravager, that was it.’

‘That was it?’

‘Yeah… yeah, that was it. But come on man, I’m not gonna touch your girl I’m holed up here, I can’t go fucking anywhere, I’m stuck here. Your girl is safe—‘

‘From you maybe,’ Dax said, giving him another shove then letting him slither down the wall. ‘Piece of advice, if you’re going to skip bail then you haul ass out of the state, don’t hang out in your buddy’s old place and hope no one thinks to look…’ Retreating, Dax nodded at Serg. ‘Let’s go.’

He and Serg left the apartment, and Dax was preoccupied again, the Ravager. The Greyhound was a skinny guy who was known for his addiction to long distance running and chasing tail, hence how he got the moniker. Dax didn’t have any beef with him, they didn’t associate, but what was more interesting was that he was referred to by his fighting name.

Benny frequented the circuit, so did Winlow when he was making money from his gambling. But as far as Dax knew The Greyhound had never been to a fight. He would know about Dax’s ties to the Starks because he did some couriering for the family in his younger years. But if The Greyhound used Dax’s fighting name that meant that whoever had told him about the contract had used it.

They might not know exactly who the source of this issue was, but they’d just narrowed it down. Whoever was doing this knew of Dax from the fighting circuit. Ivy had never been to any of his fights, so he had his confirmation that this bounty was his fault.

‘Where to now?’ Serg asked when they got back to the car.

‘We track down The Greyhound.’

‘We can go to Benny,’ Serg said.

Finding Benny was always easy, he didn’t stay in one place for long, but he had never heard of discretion and practically announced himself in every room he walked into. Benny had various contacts but little respect, it was doubtful that he had been used as a middle man. The Greyhound, on the other hand, may be the guy Dax was looking for. Easily recognizable but discreet, yes, he would make a good go-to guy. At the very least Dax could squeeze him for information, if he had to trace this trail man-by-man, then he would.